


Kneads Must (and then some)

by ObliObla



Series: Obli's Fuckruary 2020 [5]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fuckruary 2020 (Lucifer TV), Massage, Oral Sex, Post-Season/Series 04, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:07:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22579063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObliObla/pseuds/ObliObla
Summary: Fingers press gently into the hollows of Chloe’s collarbones, and she sighs, watching her indistinct reflection in the ceiling. “Feels nice,” she murmurs, and Lucifer hums above her. His hands move up to tease a knot out of her shoulder before working down her arms and taking her hands in his. He massages the ache out of her palms, her wrists, before retrieving more oil and returning to her shoulders.He isreallygood at this.
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Series: Obli's Fuckruary 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1619344
Comments: 23
Kudos: 198





	Kneads Must (and then some)

**Author's Note:**

> Day 5! Prompt: massage/medical fetish (it’s definitely light on the latter)
> 
> Thanks to [HiroMyStory](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiroMyStory/pseuds/HiroMyStory) for helping me work out the kinks

Fingers press gently into the hollows of Chloe’s collarbones, and she sighs, watching her indistinct reflection in the ceiling. “Feels nice,” she murmurs, and Lucifer hums above her. His hands move up to tease a knot out of her shoulder before working down her arms and taking her hands in his. He massages the ache out of her palms, her wrists, before retrieving more oil and returning to her shoulders. He glides slick hands down her body, skimming her breasts, and settles on the curve of her waist. He rubs circles into her sides, lightly over her stomach, and down to her hips where, with careful thumbs, he releases a tension she hadn’t even known was there. 

She slumps further into the mattress as he bypasses her thighs in favor of her feet, pressing his thumbs into her arches, rocking her heels between his palms, and settling in to massage her toes. She arches her back, and he hums again, working out a few particularly tender spots with apparently infinite patience. 

“You’re really good at this,” she tells him softly. She’d like to lean up to look at him, but everything in her wants only to collapse into the sheets and let him do what he wants.

“I had an excellent teacher,” he says, and his fingertips rub carefully into her ankles, nearly making her moan. He huffs a breath, and she knows he heard the beginnings of the sound.

“Who?” she asks, panting lightly as strong hands slide to her knees before retreating, kneading her calf muscles on the way down. Her legs part involuntarily, encouraging him to come closer, but he pulls away.

“A monk,” he says brightly, skipping down the steps that lead to his living room. He pitches his voice up so she can hear as he rounds the bar and turns on the sink. “About, oh… four thousand years ago. Made _very_ good pulao; not so great at the dice, but what can you do.” He heads back up the stairs and comes into view; he’s holding two glasses, one of whiskey, the other of ice water, and his black sleep pants seem designed to look like they’re about to fall off.

He takes a sip of the first before setting it on the side table. She starts to sit up to take the water from him, but he puts a hand on her shoulder. “May I?” he asks, his voice a soft rumble that has her sinking back into the mattress. She lets her eyes fall shut, not certain what he intends, but it doesn’t really matter. She’ll gladly stay right here for as long as she can.

She startles a little when something cold is pressed against her lips, but it’s only an ice cube, and she parts her lips to lick the water from it. Her throat is more parched than she thought, and she chases his fingertips. After a minute he slips it into her mouth, and she sucks on it as he retrieves another, the ice clinking noisily around the glass. She parts her lips for the next piece, but he bypasses her mouth in favor of trailing the ice from collarbone to throat and down again, bringing the piece between her breasts. She shivers, but he follows the trail of water with his lips, licking away the chill. She reaches up and threads her fingers in his hair, holding his head as he kisses up the line of her jaw to her lips.

“Lucifer…” she groans as they part.

“Yes, love?” he whispers.

“Please,” she says, not knowing exactly what she’s asking for and not caring. Whatever she desires, she’s learned he’ll gladly provide. He grins against her lips and pulls away, and she looses a somewhat embarrassing whine. But then an ice cube presses against her nipple, and everything leaves her mind in a rush of shock and desire, and her back is arching and Lucifer is swapping the ice to her other nipple as his hot mouth chases the cold. As he suckles, his hand drifts between her legs, and she keens.

He tosses the ice cube away and kisses her other nipple until both are hard and aching. Color is bursting behind her eyelids, and she tightens her grip in his hair until he groans, painting the vibrations over her chest. His thumb catches on her clit, and she jolts again, hips bucking off the bed.

“So sensitive,” he moans, his fingertips teasing her entrance. She shoves his head down, and he goes willingly, settling between her legs.

“Shut up, Lucifer,” she mumbles, but there’s no heat behind it, and his laughter is muffled when she hooks her ankles behind his neck and pulls him in. He presses his tongue between her lips, avoiding her clit, still teasing. She tightens her legs, but he resists being moved closer. She groans in frustration, and he laughs, the puffs of air cooling where she’s already wet.

Her leg muscles twitch with the new sensation, and he leans closer, nosing through her pubic hair, brushing her clit enough to make her jolt. He licks his lips—she can feel the motion in the pause of his breath, can hear it in the slightest hint of sound that reaches her straining ears—but doesn’t glide his tongue along her entrance, perfectly content, it seems, to continue driving her crazy.

After far too long caught in this stalemate, she lets her legs fall back to the mattress, and it’s this that he was apparently waiting for. He dives forward without restraint, pressing his tongue to the pool of arousal collecting within her, the bridge of his nose hard against her clit.

“Oh,” she says, air leaving her lungs in an involuntary gust, and then, as the tip of his tongue rubs careful circles inside her, _“Oh.”_

He mumbles something against her, but she doesn’t understand. She _does_ understand when his hand clutches at her hip, encouraging her to grind into his face. She pulls her knees up to brace her feet against the mattress and bucks upward. He moans, and she feels his lips pull into a smile before he’s fastening his lips to her clit, two of the fingers of his other hand slipping inside almost as an afterthought, but an afterthought that makes her eyes cross and her toes clench into sateen.

His free hand moves to stroke down her stomach, and the soft pressure drives her higher, hips rocking forward frantically. “Mm, Lucifer, you… Oh. _Oh.”_

Her back arches as she comes, every muscle loosened by the massage tightening up for one, brilliant moment, before she collapses onto the mattress. She pants, her breath catching as his mouth replaces his fingers, and he brings her to a second, smaller peak with his tongue buried inside her.

“Holy _shit,”_ she whispers as he sits up and wipes his face. Her eyes fix on how the fabric of his sleep pants tents below his waistband, and he follows her gaze and grins.

“Not quite yet, darling,” he says smugly, and she rolls her eyes, but her heart isn’t in it.

“Why not?” she asks, swallowing her pride, but it’s not so painful, not when she knows that in this he’ll never judge her.

His smile grows wider and filthier. “We’re not done with your massage yet.” He leans down and pulls her into his arms as if she weighs nothing, kissing her briefly before turning her and helping her lie on her stomach, a pillow supporting her hips. His hands trail down over the curve of her ass, and she shivers, but he pulls away, grabbing the massage oil.

He settles beside her and starts on her neck, massaging out the ever-present tension. He moves down to her shoulders, where he slowly works down her spine, then back up around the curve of her shoulder blades. She feels a moan burning on her lips again and, this time, doesn’t suppress it.

He hums above her, but there’s hunger in it now, and as his hands fall to her hips, she rocks against the bed. He finds a spot on her lower back that makes her choke on a breath, her hips jerking. As he presses the pads of his fingers into the curve of her ass, she grinds her clit into the pillow, no longer caring about the wrecked sounds leaving her lips.

“Lucifer, _please,”_ she whimpers, and it seems he’s done teasing, as he kneels between her legs, palms hot on her upper thighs. She parts her legs wider and keens, shoving back against him.

“Is this alright?” he asks, his voice hoarse. His hands are shaking as he grabs her hips and pulls her to her knees.

“Yes, just—” His hand comes between her legs, and her words catch in her throat. He presses into her slowly, and her fingers clench in the sheets, toes curling. She rocks back into him raggedly, but he keeps their pace unhurried. She groans in frustration as he leans down to press kisses along her spine.

“Something the matter?” he asks, and she can _hear_ his shit-eating grin. He apparently is not done teasing.

“Come _on,”_ she groans as he delves deeper, the angle stretching her wide enough she shivers with it. He leans over her, fingers crawling over her hip, down between her legs, to give her something to grind against. She reaches up and grabs the headboard for leverage, a breathy whine leaving her lips as he finally picks up the pace. The sound of their bodies moving together fills the room, and he groans, pressing his chest flush to her back. 

He pants in her ear, hissing out his breaths. “I’m close,” he whispers, like it’s something sacred. And maybe it is.

She presses her face into a pillow, mouthing at the pillowcase, as his rhythm grows frantic. Her legs shake from the effort of holding herself up, and he slings an arm around her hips, taking her weight. She sags against him, muffling her moans, teeth scraping over the fabric. He curses, then buries his own sounds in her hair, groaning as he holds off, waiting for her to… waiting for…

“Oh, oh, _fuck,”_ she mumbles, clenching hard around him. He freezes mid stroke, following after her with a long, pleased groan. She collapses into the mattress yet again, laughing breathlessly. She feels languid and boneless and like there’s nothing more she’d rather do than immediately pass out. But he doesn’t join her in falling over, instead pulling away.

She makes a wordless noise of complaint, and he chuckles softly. “I’m not going anywhere,” he tells her. As he rearranges himself, she slips into a daze. She’s sticky, and they should probably shower, but she can’t even contemplate the idea of moving from this spot. When Lucifer parts her legs again, she lifts her head, glancing blearily in his direction before he grabs her by the hips and pulls her onto his face, and she suddenly far less interested in his movements.

She’s so sensitive an accidental brush of the tip of his nose against her clit makes her shout, but he holds her up, tongue delving instead between her lower lips. He licks slowly, building her arousal. The pressure of his mouth increases gradually until her hips are bucking against his face, and he slides up the bed enough to take her clit again between his lips.

And, still, his motions are slow, leisurely sucking her higher and higher. When she cries out and reaches down to grab whatever she can—settling for his broad shoulders—he increases the suction, seizing her firmly by the ass to grind her against his face. She rolls her hips, and he moans into her, the vibrations tripping over her nerves until she… until she...

“Oh, oh, _oh, Lucifer…”_

Her back arches, and she flops to the side, still moaning softly. As she floats on a wave of aftershocks, careful hands part her thighs to clean between them, and fingertips brush the hair back from her face before she’s pulled partially into a sitting position. The water glass appears in front of her.

“Have a drink, darling.”

She sips slowly, taking deep breaths, and slumps back to the mattress. A warm body curls up behind her, soft lips pressing kisses against her neck. She buries her head back in the pillow and proclaims, “I am going to sleep for a month.”

“Sounds like an excellent plan,” he says with a sigh, pulling a blanket over them.

“And _maybe,”_ she murmurs, sleep tugging at her, “when I wake up I’ll give _you_ a massage.”

In an instant, he leaps from the bed, leaving her back cold. “Hey!” she yells as he dives down the stairs. “What are you doing?”

“Just putting the coffee on, love!”

Oh, _hell._


End file.
